


slipping

by peachsneakers



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anorexia, Bullying, Eating Disorders, F/F, Ginny can't cope with post-Voldy possession, Luna just can't cope, Post-Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 13:30:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18074294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachsneakers/pseuds/peachsneakers
Summary: What is this thing you call "coping?"





	slipping

She's not at dinner.

Ginny frowns, shooting surreptitious looks across the hall toward the blue-and-bronze-bedecked table. Luna's straggly blonde hair stubbornly refuses to materialise until finally, Ginny sighs, grabs a couple of apples from the table, and excuses herself. Only the twins look after her, but she thinks they're used to this by now. Luna is surprisingly secretive, but it wouldn't surprise her if Fred and George know there is more to the second year Ravenclaw's waifish appearance.

Luna's on the grounds this time, tucked against a crumbling boulder. Ginny frowns harder when she sees Luna's bare feet, tinged white and blue with chill. She sends a warming charm toward Luna's feet, alerting the girl to her presence. Luna smiles faintly, but says nothing.

"I got you an apple," Ginny says, settling on the ground next to her and rummaging in her robes for the fruit. Luna takes it with one delicate hand. Ginny can see the purplish tracery of veins through Luna's near translucent skin.

"Thank you, Ginny," Luna says. Her voice is featherlight, ghosting along Ginny's senses like a caress. It makes Ginny's stomach fizzy, like she's drunk an extra large butterbeer. Her siblings would laugh at her for feeling this way, she is sure. She is a child. She is only twelve. Second years don't find confidantes like  _this_.

But she is not just any second year, and neither is Luna. The others in her dorm do not know what it is like to be filled by Tom Riddle, to have their minds poisoned, drip by drip, as their body jerks and writhes under a control not their own.

Ginny doesn't know much about Luna's home life. But she  _does_ know Luna is the one who saw her mother die. It was an accident, everyone told Luna. Comforted Luna with, like a musty quilt wrapped around until it smothers. It is not a comfort to know that her mother is gone forever due to sheer bad  _luck_.

"Eat," Ginny says softly. Luna stares down at the apple in her hand as if she'd forgotten that it's there, then takes a small bite, her teeth crunching through the succulent flesh. The noise of it, of Luna chewing, is strangely melodic.

"Any more?" Luna asks. A non sequitur and yet Ginny knows exactly what she means. She rolls her sleeves up, revealing several raw, red, puffed scratches. Luna examines them somberly, her pallid fingers cool on the warmer flesh of Ginny's forearm.

"I think some of these might be infected," Luna warns, quiet. Ginny swallows hard. The sound of her heart is a clock, thumping its rhythm into her ears.

"Do you have any more-" Ginny looks at her, pleading, unable to finish her query. Luna knows what it is, anyway. This is not a new occurrence.

"Some," Luna acknowledges. "I can give it to you before curfew."

"Thanks," Ginny says, exhaling sharply and slumping onto the frosted grass. "What happened to your shoes?" Luna shrugs, a sharp, jerky motion of bony shoulders.

"Perhaps the Nargles took them," Luna suggests. Ginny scoffs.

"Only if by Nargles, you mean your dorm mates," she says sourly. Luna's mouth twists as she takes another measured bite of apple. Every movement is precise, a fluid dance that has Ginny mesmerised.

"The Grey Lady agrees with you," Luna murmurs, so soft Ginny nearly misses it.

"I could hex them all," Ginny tries, but Luna shakes her head.

"It won't help," she says. "They'll only get worse later. Professor Flitwick is a very nice man but he can't chaperon me all day and night. I wouldn't want him to." Her nose wrinkles. "They'll get bored eventually."

"Eventually better happen  _now_ ," Ginny grumbles. Her anger races along her veins, boiling just beneath her skin. It is not quite enough to trigger her fingernails wandering along a bare patch of arm, but it is close. Luna seems to sense it because she holds Ginny's gaze and takes a particularly large bite of apple.

"Apples are not so bad," Luna says a moment later, examining the partially eaten apple in her hand. "It feels...okay," she decides. Ginny knows better than to say anything. Luna has to come to her own decisions about what foods are safe to consume and what aren't.

"Luna?" Ginny says. Luna looks up at her, pale grey eyes surprisingly placid. There are dark shadows smudged beneath her eyes.

"Yes, Ginny?" Luna queries.

"Let's warm up," Ginny suggests, standing up and holding out a hand. Luna takes it gingerly, letting Ginny pull her to a standing position.

"Do I-" Luna begins, but Ginny shakes her head, letting Luna hand over the apple. Luna has eaten most of it.

"Come on," Ginny says, leading her up the slope toward the castle. "And we are finding your bloody shoes, I'll recruit the _twins_ if I have to."

Peals of Luna's laughter floats down the hill, echoing across the lake.


End file.
